Larka Returns To Chrestomanci Castle
by EatenByBobcats
Summary: Basically, I was wondering what would happen if one of my characters, Larka Bright, met Chrestomanci.Larka visited the castle before when Gabriel De Witt was Chrestomanci, and stayed there for a while. This may be continued,depending if anyone likes it;


Larka was tired, and the wound on her shoulder was exquisitely painful. She knew she should have avoided that fight, but to be frank, they had asked for it. And now she was in agony and very, very tired.

Azrael whined by her feet, and she stroked his head absentmindedly. She had found her Daemon on her visit to the world of the Northern Lights, and loved him deeply- he took the form of a white, wolfish dog. He was about the size of a German shepherd, with deep golden eyes and one ear that flopped down where the other stood up.

"We've got to go somewhere safe, or we'll never get rid of them." He said matter of factly. Larka was inclined to agree- they had been on the run in this world for nearly two weeks now, hiding behind hedges and living on frankly suspicious looking leaves and roots.

"Yes, but we've outstayed our welcome in most places by now." She argued, pushing a strand of her dark blond hair behind her ear. She made a tall, skinny figure as she crouched beneath the undergrowth- lean and strong from years of travelling. She was still beautiful, though- her magic ensured that. Larka was an expert in bewitching the senses, and she could enchant pretty much anybody if she was pushed to it. Her magic worked backwards from most peoples, which only added to her power.

Unfortunately, she also had the tendency to pick fights a lot. She normally won.

"We could head back to 13a." Azrael argued, gently nosing the deep cut on her arm, and wincing as he saw the white gleam of bone through the flesh.

"That's true. I'd forgotten that." Her silver blue eyes gleamed as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

"Christopher should be Chrestomanci by now, I imagine." She mused. "Might be fun to see how he's getting on."

She had spent some six months in that world as a teenager, and Christopher Chant had been a close friend. Then, in her travels, he'd been forgotten. That happened to her friends quite often- the blur of faces in Larka's mind was so full that sometimes people were bound to slip through the works.

"Alright then." She grinned, showing needle sharp teeth. "Lets see how our old friend the enchanters getting on, shall we?"

That night, Chrestomanci was in for a shock. The Family were sitting down to dinner; Michael Saunders filling one end of the table with complaints about the difficulties in some distant world, Bernard the other with stocks and shares.

Chrestomanci yawned, and smoothed his perfect black hair. He'd been away at a dreary convention all morning, listening to old boring men speaking of old boring things in an old boring castle. Millie had been too busy dealing with the children- Roger had come down with mumps- too supply sufficient sympathy for how awful a day he had had, and indeed was most short with him. Also, the warding spells for today's dressing gown had mysteriously disappeared, causing it to be attacked by some kind of giant moth.

Chrestomanci wasn't really listening anyway, and missed the affronted looks around the table when he suddenly leapt to his feet, inadvertently causing Bernard to spill gravy over himself.

He had been certain he had felt a slight stab at the castles defences… Yes, there it was again. Very slight, barely noticeable, but most definitely… He reached out in search of the culprit, and found… Nothing. There was nobody there. Confused, he spun round, and found himself eye to eye with a sarcastic smile that was eerily familiar.

"Hello, Christopher." Larka Bright said, her grin widening. "Did you miss me?"

Several colourful words sprang to mind at the sight of her, but years of fatherhood confined him to.

"Ah."

She raised one eyebrow. "Coherent as ever, I see." He felt himself going red, and heard Julia give a distinct snigger. Good grief, he hadn't blushed for years, never mind been stuck for something sarcastic to say.

"Yes…. Um, hello, Larka." He said, rallying a little. "You seem to have broken in."

Looking over her shoulder at the network of protective magic she had brushed aside as easily as cobwebs, Larka nodded. "Yes. Old habits and all that, sorry. Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Oh, right." He recalled that he never had been any good against Larka's particular branch of magic, and thought how lucky he was that he'd never encountered it anywhere else.

"Um, everyone, this is Larka Bright… and dog." He said, frowning as he noticed Azrael for the first time. The daemon gave him a little wave, and Chrestomanci jumped backwards in surprise.

"Dog is inaccurate, thank you." The voice was surprisingly sophisticated considering it came from a mouth with whiskers. "I would accept wolf, wolf-dog, victorious leader, spell-hound, or dog-who-bites-priests."

"Right. Right." Chrestomanci tried to pull together his dignity as he noticed the smiles gathering on the Families faces. They were _enjoying _this, he realised. _Enjoying _his tongue tied humiliation!

"Larka, this is Julia, my daughter, and Cat and Janet, my wards… Rogers ill at the moment."

"Who's Roger?"

"Mumps." Christopher smiled serenely, and Larka gave him a slightly concerned look.

"Right. Well, this is Azrael, my daemon, and… are you all right?"

"Not sure." Chrestomanci frowned, looked puzzled, and then fell over in a dead faint.

"Ah." Michael Saunders nodded wisely. "That'll be the broken enchantments. Can take it out of you, having your spells snapped like that. Do have some dinner, the soups lovely."

"Ok…"

"Right. Mr Walters, do clear Mr Chrestomanci away, won't you? Take him to bed, there's a good chap. He won't wake up for a while, I imagine."

"Hasn't changed much." Azrael remarked as Christopher Chant was dragged, weakly twitching, from the room.


End file.
